


Bedtime Stories

by ithappenedonenight



Category: Primeval
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Campfires, F/M, when fandoms collide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithappenedonenight/pseuds/ithappenedonenight
Summary: Or how Abby Maitland became an accidental Battlestar Galactica fan without ever having watched an episode. Set shortly after the end of Season 3.





	Bedtime Stories

Abby and Connor stood together, surveying their handiwork. The makeshift campsite was next to a thick grove of trees. Branches and leaves were piled up high in between the tree trunks, creating a rough barrier. The center area had been cleared, a fire burning happily in the pit. But any truly obstinate predator would make fast work of their small protections.

“I’ll keep first watch then,” he said.

“You’ve made that offer before, you know,” Abby said as she rummaged in her bag, finding the ugly silver space blanket that was included as standard in all survival packs. 

“Oh?” he asked, unable to pin down the reference.

“When you decided to go anomaly hunting, packed a tent for one, and then almost got me kicked off the team,” she said, her back to him. She was staring at her rucksack, trying to figure out if it might be able to have a second life as a pillow.

Connor grimaced. Pretty sure he would never (rightly) live that down.

“You were such a creeper,” she said, and gave him a friendly shove. 

“Give a guy credit,” he said. “It was a slow play.”

She settled on the ground, head crooked playfully. “Yeah? Got any more vintage moves that you want to show off?”

He moved forward at speed and pulled her under him, his lips finding her neck and earlobes and other places that made her squirm. Skin carassed skin, each touch new and electric. 

“Dammit,” Abby groaned, as his fingers found a particularly enjoyable spot. “Can’t.”

Connor let out a long ragged sigh and begrudgingly drew himself up into a sitting position. For a brief moment, the trees almost looked like they could belong in Dean. On cue, something prehistoric roared in the distance.

“Right,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Keeping watch.”

She laid out on the ground next to him, her back to a large log. They were silent for awhile, Abby’s blanket crinkling as she tossed and turned, trying to find a moderately more comfortable space on the forest floor.

“Connor?” she asked at last.

“Yeah.”

“Put me to sleep.”

He moved closer and took her hand. Then chucked a bit to himself.

“If you insist,” he said to his captive audience, and then began: “The Cylons were created by man. They were robots, designed to make life easier for humans. But the humans made the Cylons smart, and they realized that they didn’t like being slaves to humans. They decided to kill their masters.”

“So, like the Terminator?”

“Shhh let me tell it. You’re supposed to be falling asleep, remember? And unlike Terminator, we’re not on Earth. We’re on a place called Caprica. It’s one of the 12 colonies.”

“What about Earth? Does anyone live there?”

“We don’t know. There is a legend, of this lost colony called Earth. But no one’s really sure if it even exists. More on that later, promise. So the Cylons rebelled and there was this big bloody war, robots versus humans. It goes on for a very long time. There aren’t any clear winners or losers - but there is an armistice, and the Cylons leave.”

“Where do they go?”

“No one knows. A space station is built way out on the edge of the gaxaly and every year the humans send a representative to this space station, but the Cylons never show. After a few years, the representative stops dreading the assignment - he brings a book to read, makes some coffee, because it’s always the same. A whole day of sitting in this empty room and waiting. And he does this once a year for forty years.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Very. So picture it: the man is sitting there in this big room - might have even fallen asleep - and suddenly... the doors open. A pair of Cylons walk in. They’re big and bipedal, larger than a human, and they make loud clomping noises as they step across the metal floor. They enter and then they just stop, like they’re waiting for something. The guy is freaking out. I mean, it’s been so long that people are starting to think that the Cylons might not even exist any more. And that’s when a very blond woman in a red dress walks in.”

“You sneak!” Abby said, sitting up and smacking Connor’s arm. “I know what this is.” Connor had spent a good portion of their time as roommates trying to convince Abby to give his favorite sci-fi shows a shot. She had vetoed more DVDs than she could count, and the lady in red had been at the top of that rejected pile. 

“Oi,” he said, accepting the beating. “Just because we don’t have a telly, doesn’t mean that you should be deprived of the greatness that is Battlestar Galactica. Besides, I half expected you to pass out the moment I mentioned ‘robots.’”

“Fine,” she said, giving him a side-eye. “I’ll allow it. For now.” 

She re-positioned herself on the ground and tucked her hand into his. Arguing about TV (even without the set) was reassuringly familiar. “But I’m confused,” she said. “I thought the blond was actually supposed to be a robot.” 

“That’s the problem,” said Connor, eyes glinting merrily. “She is. Somehow in the last 40 years, the Cylons managed to make robots that look just like people. And the only one who knows is this representative bloke, who’s about to be blown to kingdom come in about ten seconds.”

“Oh shit,” said Abby, sitting up again.

“Oh frak,” Connor corrected. 

Like that, Abby was hooked.

**Author's Note:**

> I might recently have started watching Battlestar Galactica. I regret nothing.
> 
> Also - all described here is covered in the first five minutes of the show, hence the lack of spoiler warnings.


End file.
